Downtime
by Shocotate
Summary: "Who was gonna tell me it was Meat Day, huh? No one? I bet all the good stuff's gone!" It's just a boring Sunday afternoon for Greed, until it isn't. [Pre-series]


Author's Note: I wrote this for Cupidtas-Meruimus-Meliore as part of the fmagiftexchange. I was reading the Perfect Guidebook and it mentioned that Meat Day is celebrated all over Amestris, as a day to 'meet meat', so I thought I'd write a fic about it :) It was fun writing Greed again with his friends in Dublith, and this is set on Meat Day 1913.

* * *

**Downtime**

Greed knocked back his third glass of rum and lemonade, flopping down so hard his sunglasses slipped off his forehead. Fell perfectly, though, not askew at all. Lifting them back up one handed, he glanced around at the empty tables from his perch at the bar, probably collecting specks of dust, but arranged well enough for the evening. Only six hours to go…

…_And now with the Great Crested Grebes having returned, and already spotted performing their elaborate dances on Lake Kauroy, we are certain…_

The radio crackled a bit, not that Greed usually paid it any mind. Having it _audible _only made the way too quiet bar that much worse. Humans called it background noise for a reason.

Outside, the rain clattered, occasionally drowning out the radio even through the window slits, the puddles reaching almost half way up the glass. Greed watched it for a bit, catching the rushing footsteps and splashing of the humans passing by. He smirked at the thought of them dripping and drenched while he sat all cosy, warm enough despite the season, even without his jacket. Shame they couldn't shelter in _here_ and fritter away some Cenz. Yet.

"Man, fuck Sundays." he grumbled behind his empty glass, half expecting it to echo. His hand wandered, finding the little plush Lake Monster that usually lived at the back of the bar, trotting it along. Sighing, he poked its snout and then all five of its white button eyes at once, before muttering a 'sorry' and stroking its fuzzy black mane. Greed slouched further, pushed his glass aside and rested on his arms, its dopey head poking out under his chin.

Where was everyone? If he'd known his minions were gonna scurry away on their off-time, he would have stayed in bed. _Where _they'd scurried off to was another question, but Greed didn't dwell on it too much.

"Afternoon, boss."

Ah, here came one of them, now.

"Hey, Dolcetto." At least he could count on a dog's loyalty, chimera or no. Even brought him the newspaper. "Nice. About time, too."

The homunculus immediately flicked to the ad section, poring over every segment with a toothy smile. No _real _news made it to the paper or the radio, not with his own, far better sources. Besides, nothing better for boredom that the prospect of _spending._

Vaguely, the radio broke over the rain again, something about a posh school in the northeast wanting to arrange annual visits to the Lake. He effortlessly tuned it out, turning the page.

"Hm?" He squinted at a small grey square in one corner.

_Meat Day Sale at Curtis Meat!_

_All meat 50% off!_

_Today only!_

Oh shit.

Greed shot to his feet, the barstool squeaking a little. Dolcetto didn't exactly flinch, but eased his relaxed eyes towards him.

"What's up, boss?"

"Fuckin'- Meat Day, aint it? I bet all the good stuff's gone!" Greed called while he slipped his furred jacket on, forgoing any coat, "And the radio's here just talkin' about fucking – _Grebes!_ But not Meat Day!" Though, any news the radio spewed was preferable to any local 'talent' they brought on. Greed recalled the one time he'd visited the _illustrious _Dublith Radio.

_What do you mean they can't play the violin solo? It's only 15 minutes long! What kinda shitty musicians are you hiring! Fuck it, let me in 'n' I'll play it myself! H-Hey!_

Probably wasn't allowed back. Like that could stop him.

"I bet it did." Dolcetto settled on one of the stools, lighting his Xingese pipe with the bar's _own_ brand of matches, of course.

"Yeah probably. Anyway, I'm off."

"Want me to come with?"

"Nah, you stay. Don't want the place stinking of wet dog, so stick to being a watchdog for now." Greed reached the stairs leading out of the bar, plucking up an umbrella on the way, "Guard all this shit, don't do anything I wouldn't, and—here," he tossed the chimera the newspaper, minus the ad pages, which he folded into a tiny square and tucked in his inside pocket, "if you need a piss, do it on this, 'kay?"

"I'm housebroken! No wait, I mean-"

The door slammed before he could finish. Oh well.

Greed sauntered along without much of a care, safe under the umbrella even with the downpour, his Ouroboros covered hand tucked into his pocket, not that it was anything to _hide_. A stray cat darted out of his way, scampering into a side street. He followed it, tipping just so and peering over his glasses down the alley, hearing it hiss. Maybe it was fighting over some shelter, or hunting a rat.

Instead, a familiar lizard tail poked out from behind a bin, and the rest of him followed, waving.

"Yo, there you are, Bido. Missed ya at the bar, everyone else, too, pretty much." Greed watched his underling stand on his bare tiptoes, reaching for something on the wall. "What ya doin'?"

"Hey, jus'-" Bido motioned towards the edge of a long strip of paper, unpeeling it, rolling it up and tucking it under his arm, "taking down these posters for you, Mr Greed. I know you want them all."

Ah, his wanted posters. Greed wanted everything, the humans wanted him back for _something _he'd apparently done, and he'd leave them wanting for a bit longer.

"That I do, everythin' else as well, but they'll do for now. Good job. Soon I'll have the whole wall covered." He imagined it, like those swanky Central bars that put up people's portraits on the walls, but they'd all be him. 100% Greed, 100% of the time. He and his many, many underlings, in his proper place as King of the World. Sounded real sweet in his head.

"Really?" Bido's eyes shimmered in admiration, or maybe that was just the rain.

"Yep. We'll do the coffee table next."

Bido moved onto the next poster, clinging to the wall above and very carefully lifting it with his claws. His tail swished while he hummed, sending droplets of water flying. It was gonna get soaked.

"Hold it, you're gonna get 'em wet."

"Oh, sorry, Mr Greed," the chimera faltered, trying to clutch them all under one arm and also shield them beneath his beggar's cloak.

Greed sighed. Nothing for it.

"Uh…Take this." He held the umbrella out for him.

"What about you?"

"Can't exactly go around holding my own wanted posters now can I? Take it, and don't spoil the goods. I want every one of those lookin' as good as me, so legit I could use 'em as mirrors, got it?"

"Of course! You're so smart, Mr Greed! " Bido grinned, returning to his task, wrapping his reptilian tail around the umbrella and holding it steady over his head.

"I know, I know." Greed waved it off with his own ready grin. He grinned for all of five seconds until the rain hit him proper, breaking into a sprint.

"Damn it." Gotta protect the goods, he told himself as he dashed through to the less shady parts of town, landing in way too many puddles for his liking, splashing up against his pants. Of course, he styled it out, so they just came off looking extra shiny. Still, the hair was a different matter.

Ducking under an overhang, Greed plucked out a piece of newspaper, giving it a quick once-over to see if there were any discounts worth salvaging.

"Nope, nope, maybe, oh screw it." He just tugged the sheet over his head and carried on. Once or twice Greed considered abandoning the whole thing and returning to the cosiness (and boredom) of the bar. Though, turning around, having sacrificed his ad section, with exactly _zero_ meat on _Meat Day _to show for it?No way!

At this point it had better be the best damn meat he'd ever tasted.

What felt like an eternity later Greed all but fell into the butcher's shop, hoping whatever was dripping down his nose was just water and not ink. A little bell rang somewhere over his head and the best he could hope was that there wasn't a queue, or that there was anything left.

"Afternoon." The butcher called across the small shop with his usual gruffness.

"Hey," he groaned back, wringing the paper out, the print running all over his fingers. Great.

"What'll it be?" Mr Curtis's massive frame suited his job, otherwise he'd probably be out wrestling bears or something, Greed thought. Though, apparently having a sideline as a murderer was on the table now, up there in _Central_. He allowed himself the barest thought of his siblings, and hoped that mad bastard was running them ragged, cutting up everyone useful to them.

Greed shook himself out of it, scratching the scruff of his neck, full casual again.

"Well, I got a whole zoo back home to cater for, so what're the prices like today?"

"Chicken breast is usually 160 cenz per 100 grams, but today it's 80 cenz. There is also a 1.5kg limit for customers to ensure everyone is able to celebrate."

Grams, what? Greed blinked, not the guy would see it through his sunglasses.

"What's that in _real_ measurements?"

"1000 grams in a kilogram. 453 grams in a pound."

"Fine, gimme that much o'…" Greed turned towards the menu on the wall, "chicken and mammoth. A pound, not a 'keelo-gram', mind. Uh… a jar of beetroot and… this cheese." He laid a half wheel down on the counter along with the jar, while the butcher busied himself with slicing and weighing the meat. "Oh, and some sausages, too, for the dog."

The man nodded, still slicing, very carefully.

_Hurry it up, old man._

Greed rocked back on his heels, trying to 'read' his saturated newspaper, but it was too smudged. At least he had the other half to use as an umbrella for the return trip.

"You, er, hear about the Grebes?" he asked.

"I did. Nice birds. Mate for life, they say."

"Gonna add 'em to the menu?"

"…No, but if you brought one yourself, we'd be happy to pluck it for you."

"It's fine, the – uh – Monster's probably got 'em already..."

Finally the guy seemed satisfied, counting the items out and jotting the receipt with the tiniest pencil Greed had ever seen, almost invisible between his massive fingers. Fancy looking handwriting, though.

"1950 cenz, sir."

"Right, thanks." Greed slid a couple of 1000 cenz notes out his pocket with two fingers, handing them over with a low whistle. Sure, it might be enough, but it was never _really _enough. He'd have to make sure Ulchi didn't eat it all in one bite.

As soon as everything was wrapped into way too many little bags, Greed stood up straighter and took a massive breath before heading back into the deluge outside. He'd never complain about it getting too hot down south again. Jeez, in this rain, anyone would think he'd wound up in East City!

"Hey, Dolcetto!" Greed yelled about ten minutes later, kicking the door of the Devil's Nest open. The same saturated paper sat dripping on his head, covering his eyes while the last remaining sheets draped over the paper bags holding all the stuff, "Find the others, somehow, will ya. I got a treat for -"

"Happy Meat Day, Boss!" Several voices cried out together, cutting him off.

"Eh…?" Greed lifted the paper away, rubbing the water off his glasses.

Once his sight cleared, he saw all his previously absent underlings clustered in front of the bar, whooping and cheering. Pretty much all the tables had been filled with different cuts of lamb and chicken and pork, with some vegetables here and there.

Greed just stared over the rim of his glasses, blinking blankly where they could all see. His sharp teeth parted slightly.

"You splashed out so much last year, thought we'd return the favour!" Dolcetto grinned, still smoking his pipe, blowing a circle above his head.

"Yeah!" Bido called from his place stacking the rolled up posters neatly on the bar, making a pile and sitting the dark blue plush atop it.

"Well, course I did! I'm _Greed_," Though Greed barely remembered the previous Meat Day, it was probably true, and he laughed at the idea he could do anything _but _splash out. "Obviously my property only gets the best."

"We got beef too, just don't let Roa see it!" Martel purred in her best fake whisper, smirking and watching for any reaction.

"…It's fine." the bovine chimera shrugged even with his arms crossed, rolling his eyes.

"Very nice, but you lot aren't off the hook that easily. C'mon, gotta get all this shit cooked before opening time, and Dolcetto, you can put that sword to good use for once." He slung an arm over Dolcetto's shoulder, playfully dragging him along, and the others followed, his chimeras of all kinds, snake and ox, lizard and crocodile.

Greed remembered his years spent mingling among the 'higher classes', in his shitty clothing, none of them half as interesting as his underlings. He smirked to himself. Fuck those posh ass bars in Central; this was where it was at, just him and his crew.

The bar filled with its usual chatter as they all headed towards the kitchen, and for a little while nothing else mattered.


End file.
